


Take my hand, take my whole life too

by ectoBisexual



Series: Chameleon Boy [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dates, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoBisexual/pseuds/ectoBisexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata takes Kenma on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take my hand, take my whole life too

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Kaitlin for commissioning me; you were a delight to write for, and this prompt was adorable. <3
> 
> This fic is technically a part of the Chameleon Boy verse, but can be read on its own, too.
> 
> For anyone else interested, I am currently open for commissions still, and appreciate every single one that I get on account of the financial difficulties I am currently suffering from. My info is here and a big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read it, I love you more than life: http://cloverguts.tumblr.com/post/129385688821/daynas-emergency-commissions-please-take-2

“Do you want to go?”

Kenma sits and stares at his boyfriend, who is standing in the doorway and twisting his fingers together nervously. He won’t look at Kenma; his face is very pointedly downcast, most likely to hide the crimson flush of his cheeks, and he’s shifting, from foot to foot, like the restless oceanic tumult inside of him is rushing around at full mast today.

Kenma tries to catch up. “…What?”

“You know,” says Hinata. They’re in the living room together; Kenma’s only been home for about ten minutes, and still the drudge of class pulls at his bones, a kind of exhaustion that smells like coffee and books. He’s sitting in front of the television, where a cheerful and pink-schemed ad has just stopped playing, and Hinata stands in the doorway looking moments away from combusting.

“I’m afraid,” says Kenma, speaking slowly, “you’ll have to elaborate.”

Hinata hisses a sigh. “The cherry blossom festival,” he says curtly. “I wanna take you. Will you go with me?”

Kenma finally catches up with the situation. It’s 5 pm now, so surely Shouyou doesn’t mean… well, _now._ The advert that was just playing on tv was for the festival in question, advertising restaurants and music and the peaceful lilt of Spring air in its most commodified form. Kenma wasn’t really thinking much of it, because he was focused on waiting for his favourite television show to come on; that Western one about cannibals that made Hinata squirm. But now Hinata is standing and watching him, looking equal parts determined and embarrassed, and Kenma has to come up with an answer.

“Like…” he licks his lips. “Right now?”

“ _No,_ ” breathes Hinata, looking relieved that the immediate answer wasn’t no. “No, like—I don’t have any competitions on next week, but I can’t really get out of training, y’know, because _whoa,_ how unfair would that be to everyone else? Especially Kageyama because like—like he’s working harder than anyone right now, and he needs me there to be all—bam!—and spike his totally awesome sets so that we can win and like—”

“Shouyou,” Kenma eases, pulling him back on track. His boyfriend takes in a calm breath.

“Right. Right. _So._ I was thinking. Sunday.”

“…This Sunday.”

“That’s. Um. Yeah.”

Kenma thinks about it, watching his boyfriend squirm from the corner of his eye. “I’m working,” he says eventually, and then, before Hinata can deflate the whole way: “I can call in sick.”

“Awesome,” he breathes, eyes going all sparkly. Even now, it makes Kenma’s chest feel like it’s made of caged moths, beating their wings all desperately to get out. He ducks his head to his chin to hide his smile.

“Cherry blossoms,” he says quietly. “That’s kinda romantic of you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Hinata’s face goes tomato red. It makes his whole night.

.

He calls in sick to work on Saturday night, so that by the time he wakes up on Sunday morning—well past 11, stretching like a cat and soaking in the warm bliss of not having a class or a shift to go to—he isn’t at all stressed. Hinata’s side of the bed isn’t warm, but that doesn’t surprise the blonde; his boyfriend is usually up and bouncing around the apartment by 8, and already the smell of coffee is starting to drift into their bedroom. Awesome. Kenma sits up and follows it with his nose, inclining towards the door with sleepy, happy eyes.

He finds Hinata in the kitchen, bent over the stove and burning a pancake. Kenma wraps his arms around the other’s waist and buries his head in his shoulder.

“Morning,” Hinata chirps, pouring a new mixture in.

“Morning,” Kenma mumbles. His words get all stuck in Hinata’s skin. He tries to chase them with his lips, warm and slow with sleep and bringing up little goosebumps along Hinata’s arms.

“Our date’s gonna be awesome today,” Hinata tells him, exclaiming it over a mouthful of now-undercooked pancake mix. (Which he then spits right back out, onto the plate with the burnt pancake on it. Kenma pats his hip and gently moves him out of the way to take over cooking duty.)

“Mm,” he agrees, while Hinata leans against the side of the counter and looks at him sheepishly. “What time are we going?”

“As soon as you finish breakfast! Well, not as _soon_ as you finish, because like, you have to get dressed, I guess—”

“Should I wear a jacket?”

Hinata’s eyes get all big and sparkly. “I’ll bring a jacket. I’ll give it to you if you get cold.”

“That’s a little impractical,” teases Kenma, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Then you’ll be cold.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be a good boyfriend at least—whoa, Kenma, that one looks perfect!”

Kenma transfers the pancake to a new plate and tries not to roll his eyes fondly.

They sit together at the ebony table Hinata’s mom gave them last Christmas; before then, Kenma ate all of his meals on his bed, and Hinata ate at the kitchen counter before he moved in with Kenma. A lot of his boxes are still scattered around, picture frames and dumb nerd paraphernalia that Kenma definitely didn’t lose his shit over. (Hinata owns a lot of Legend of Zelda figmas and t-shirts; Kenma had decided, appropriately, that they were soulmates.)

He gets dressed after breakfast, heading out with his hair in a bun and his boyfriend’s hand tucked neatly in his. He can’t believe how long it's been since Kuroo last visited from filming; everything was cold and dim again then, streets paved in leaves, then ice that Hinata’s glow reflected off of like a mirror pointed at the sun. Kenma can’t image a time when he had thought bright lights like that were blinding; every inch of him glows with Hinata now, two shades of the same kind of brightness.

Hinata swings his hand in Kenma’s, and the picnic basket in the other. He wouldn’t let Kenma peek when he tried, even when he insisted that he was still hungry from breakfast.

“Aahh,” Hinata drawls, sounding every inch the excited child that Kenma met in a Tokyo gym. “It’s so warm today! I just want to, like, marry the sun.”

“Rude,” says Kenma, twisting his lips in amusement. It’s fun to watch the way the despair crosses Hinata’s face.

“You know what I mean! Hey, Kenma, I think you’d be more like the moon, anyway. So beautiful and mysterious…”

“I’m not mysterious,” he defends. The tables have turned and his cheeks are glowing now. Hinata grins wickedly.

“You agree you’re beautiful, at least. Oh man, your cheeks are all pink. So cute.”

“They’re not,” he argues. He raises the back of one hand to feel them; they’re both burning. “Well, it’s warm out today. Blame your fiancée of a sun.”

“Fiancée’s a pretty word,” Hinata mumbles, and they drop the conversation.

It really is a lovely day. The sun ahead is the kind of warm gold glow that makes Kenma feel sleepy and content, like a body of slow-moving hot water, coalesced and threaded so easily with Hinata. They walk along the side of the pathway leading up to the park, listening to the dull chirp of busy noise become louder, like light through stained glass. Everything feels glittery and easy.

“Kenma, _look,_ ” Hinata keeps saying, at every cherry blossom tree he sees. He looks like he’s about to start crying when he realises that the petals are coming _off_ the trees, little pink specks like swatches from his cheeks and lips floating around them in a breeze or a storm. His grip tightens on Kenma’s hand with the excitement, rather than letting go. When they get into the park, Kenma gives in and rests his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, not caring that it’s going against every ounce of his body that rears its head in horror at the prospect of pda. Anxiety waits for no boy in love.

It takes Hinata a while to find  a spot he’s satisfied with, but eventually he does, gesturing fervently for Kenma to step out of the way while he unrolls the picnic blanket. He struggles, and Kenma ends up laughing at him, uncontrollably into the back of his hand while Hinata’s small frame struggles with the huge sheet of fabric, the span of his arms barely half of its width. Kenma eventually steps in to help. It’s a pink thing, spotted with red strawberries. It nearly matches Hinata’s hair.

They sit down and curl their legs up together, arms brushing and sharing in the warmth that has seemingly embedded itself into their skin, making every touch of skin on skin feel like stepping into warm water. Kenma shuts his eyes and sighs happily, breathing in the sweet smell of the air, the smell of Hinata, his arm a strong and comforting rock around Kenma’s shoulders.

“I bought all your favourites,” Hinata eventually admits, seeming almost sheepish to say it. Kenma peeks open one eye at the now exposed basket. Inside, he’s got a thermos of coffee, fruit and bread and sweets and apple pie. Kenma’s heart does that thing again.

He leans up and pecks Hinata on the cheek, letting the kiss linger. “Thank you,” he mumbles, watching in satisfaction the way it brings a sweet blush to his boyfriend’s cheek.

Every moment together feels like a punctuation towards the inevitable. Kenma doesn’t know the details of the means at all, only that the goal is this: he is never leaving Hinata’s side.

They sit and eat bread and cheese, then share the apple pie while couples mill about under the cherry blossom trees, children crying out in wonder on their parents’ shoulders and tiny girls with braided hair stopping to scoop up petals in their hands. Kenma feeds Hinata with one of the forks he brought, moving in to kiss the corner of his mouth when he realises there’s still a little speck of sugar there. It tastes sweet, like Hinata. When he pulls away, his boyfriend’s eyes are sparkling again.

They stay until the sun starts to set and then walk up and down the park, pinkies thread together and swinging, gentle footing to avoid trampling what little petals have fallen.

Kenma tries and fails not to stare dreamily at his boyfriend, not believing that in the time they’ve been dating they could have gotten to this point. Everything feels like a hazy dream of warmth and comfort, still something he can’t believe.

“We should go to a restaurant,” Hinata says suddenly, and Kenma’s eyebrows shoot up. They don’t really have the money for that, not right now, but—

“Why?” he asks, not meaning to sound rude. He worries for a second that he sounds that way, that he’ll hurt Hinata’s feelings, but no. No. His boyfriend knows him better than that, better than anyone. He smiles warmly and raises Kenma’s hand to kiss his knuckles.

“Because I wanna treat you, dummy. You’re not even allowed to complain. Pick the place.”

Kenma thinks for a moment. “Afuri,” he says eventually, because it’s the cheapest place he can think of. Hinata rolls his eyes.

“We eat at Afuri, like, every other weekend. Come on! Pick somewhere fancy. Ah—I won’t make you, I guess. I can pick somewhere I think you’ll like. I know you pretty well, Kenma.”

Kenma doesn’t know what to say to that. The warm glow is back in his chest.

Hinata ends up picking a cute little restaurant near the station that specialises in cooked pork over rice, which Kenma thinks suits the night perfectly. They get a little booth in the back so that they can sit together with their pinkies still intertwined while they order. Hinata orders for him; Kenma’s getting better at it, knows he _can,_ but the weight off of his shoulders feels like a landslide anyway. He ducks his head and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s earlobe, delighting in the happy little noise Hinata makes. God, help him. His love for this boy will kill them both.

Hinata ends up ordering him a sweet drink and a big meal to share, so that they can sit with legs crossed together and feed each other, joke, laugh, Kenma smearing sweet soy all over Hinata’s nose. He kisses it off when his boyfriend starts to pout, which makes them both blush and smile. Even after all this time together, he still feels like it’s their first date. His heart soars above his head.

After dinner Hinata pays and then leads Kenma outside, his arm around the small of the blonde boy’s back. Everything in Kenma feels loose and relaxed, slowly worked down to a warm burn by Hinata’s magic, still buzzing in the air around them. They walk hip to hip and Kenma presses his face into his boyfriend’s neck, breathing him in in the cool, Spring night air.

It takes him all of the time to get back to their front door to realise what day it is.

“We’ve been living together for a month,” he says, as Hinata unlocks the door to their apartment. He looks over his shoulder impishly, smiling at Kenma like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And?”

“And…” it’s the 14th. “We’ve been dating for fifteen months.”

Hinata’s face lights up. “Yeah.”

“Is fifteen months important? I’m bad. At the whole dating thing.”

“Well, if you’re bad at the whole dating thing, then I must have no self-respect,” Hinata teases, letting them both inside. “I’ve put up with you for fifteen months. You must be _super_ annoying, Kenma.”

“You only date me because I stop you from burning the apartment down.”

“Very true,” Hinata affirms, getting up on his tip toes to kiss Kenma’s forehead. It’s such a silly reaction, but the small, intimate gesture sends butterflies erupting in his stomach. He grabs Hinata by the collar of his shirt and pulls him in so that he can bury his head in his chest.

“Thank you,” he says again, letting his word muffle. Hinata wraps his arms around to hold Kenma, stroking the back of his head.

“I’m gonna marry you.” Hinata says it determinedly, like it’s the biggest truth there is. His arms tighten around Kenma. “I’m gonna make enough money to buy you the prettiest ring, and it’s gonna have stars and the sun and the moon on it, and it’s gonna be gold, just like your eyes.”

“We should get a cat,” breathes Kenma, feeling his chest constrict.

Hinata nods firmly. “And a dog.”

“Yeah.”

The redhead pulls back to look Kenma in the face, his own bright and happy, tears pooling in his eyes like an ocean. “I’m sorry,” he says, then laughs around a hiccup and begins to cry. He does this, sometimes; happy cries, and Kenma’s chest starts to tighten up again with a hundred feelings his professors never taught him the words for. “You just make me so happy.”

“You make _me_ happy,” he insists, and steps back into his arms.

They stand there for a while hugging, swaying together slightly, like they’re dancing to some silent song or moving together in a breeze. Hinata presses kisses and whispers into his hair like he’s trying to keep it a secret, but the way Kenma hears it seems to bounce and echo off of the whole entire world. “You should definitely, totally marry me, y’know.” It’s not the first time he’s said it. Kenma knows it won’t be the last.

“I definitely, totally will,” he says back, and even though his tone is teasing, Kenma knows Hinata will get it. Hinata always gets it. He feels him press a smile into the top of Kenma’s head.

“Let’s go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Kaitlin for commissioning me; you were a delight to write for, and this prompt was adorable. <3
> 
> This fic is technically a part of the Chameleon Boy verse, but can be read on its own, too.
> 
> For anyone else interested, I am currently open for commissions still, and appreciate every single one that I get on account of the financial difficulties I am currently suffering from. My info is here and a big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read it, I love you more than life: http://cloverguts.tumblr.com/post/129385688821/daynas-emergency-commissions-please-take-2


End file.
